Moonlight Shining Through - The Outtakes
by riveroad
Summary: Series of out-of-order, related one-shots. Spike and Winnie find their way through a relationship - except these are the less PG-13 one-shots.
1. Old Sun In My Sky

**Old Sun In My Sky**

Spike stumbles to the door, pulling on his shirt as he does, wonders a) who in the hell alternates between ringing the bell and knocking on the door, b) who in the hell rings the bell and knocks on the door at 2:30 in the morning and c) who in the hell rings the bell and knocks so aggressively, ever.

"Winnie?"

"Hi," she says breathlessly and actually, it's stupid but she still makes _him_ breathless sometimes, like he looks at her and can't believe she agreed. Not that it's been that long, they've only gone out once. But- "Am I disturbing you?"

He stares at her, wonders just what in the hell she thinks he was doing at 2:30 in the morning that she could possibly be disturbing him from doing, opens his mouth to ask her, when suddenly, she's in his space, mouth all warm and soft and she's kissing him fiercely (not at all the kind of polite, sweet kiss they had two nights ago when he dropped her home after they had dinner). It's like crackling heat, all intense and she pulls away, gets her shirt off and her bra's this lacy little grey thing, pretty and soft and he's pretty sure his mouth's hanging wide open.

She stares at him like it's suddenly just occurred to her what she's doing but then she kisses him again and it's all tongue and lips and it's a deep kiss, the kind of kiss he imagined when he first realized that he wanted to kiss Winnie Camden. So he gets his hands around her, moves them up to cradle her jaw and she relaxes against him and he wonders if she thought he'd ask her to leave or something.

The thought is so insanely ludicrous, he almost laughs.

Winnie looks at him, eyes all bright, tugs on his t-shirt until he pulls it over his head, skims her fingers across his chest, all the muscles in his stomach jumping. "Spike-"

He kisses her first this time, deep and sloppy until she's arching against him a little and he's got her jeans unbuttoned.

She clears her throat, pushes them down her hips and he stares at her, all that lace and soft skin and her hair falling on her shoulders and she looks right back like she turns up and strips at guys' houses all the time (except, he sees the tremble in her lips, like she knows exactly what she's handing him here). She looks like she's just spent the last ten minutes getting the shit kissed out of her so he slides one arm around her waist, reaches around her with the other to close the front door and he wonders if anyone's been standing there watching them, watching _her_ because he can't look away from her, he's tried, for months and years, he's tried. Kisses her again. She's all eager, fingers running through his hair and that warm body pressed right up against him. He can't recall the last time someone kissed him so eagerly.

He doesn't actually remember stumbling up to his bedroom, only pauses when he's got her on her back in the middle of his bed, one knee between her thighs, little whimpers when he sucks gently at the spot above her collar bone (there's this direct correlation between how hard he sucks and the volume of those whimpers and he finds himself smiling against her skin). She pushes him up, sits up with him long enough to wriggle out of her pretty grey bra and it's just-

It's nowhere near as pretty as she is, all that skin he can suddenly see.

She lets out this shaky laugh, like she's embarrassed and he's pretty sure he's suddenly telling her some dumb shit about how beautiful she is (and like, he's also cringing at himself because he's always thought she was beautiful, didn't need to get her half-naked to know for sure).

He touches her too, gets his hands on her until all that shaky laughter's gone and all he can hear are these low moans, right in the back of her throat. Feels something leap in his stomach when he licks at her skin, how it's all glowing in the dim light, how she flicks her hair out of her face, kisses his way down that flat stomach, presses his lips right against her underwear.

She makes this sound that shoots right to the base of his spine.

Of course, then all he wants to do is hear it again.

He bites playfully at her hipbone and her hips jump and actually, so do his eyebrows because okay, yes, this is getting really heated really fast but he still kind of thought that she'd be-

Whatever. Not the point.

She's got the faintest scar on her knee, white and small like maybe she fell once as a kid and never got it patched up right. Also, the smoothest legs he's ever gotten his hands on and her breathing does a weird trembly thing when he brushes his lips along the inside of her thigh, nudges at the edge of her underwear with his tongue.

She stays statue-still, like she's afraid he's going to change his mind (which – no. Definitely not about this. Definitely not about her, either) and he gets his tongue on her right through the grey lace of her underwear. She's incredibly polite about it at first but he rolls his eyes even though she can't see him, keeps going until she's arching up against his mouth and making this very specific sort of noise.

Also – she's loud. Like, very loud. It's doing all sorts of good things for his ego, is all he's saying, how she muffles her mouth against her arm until she seems to forget, gets her fingers in his hair instead.

He's always paid attention in class and this is no exception, plus she's got about a hundred tells, her fingers fisting at the sheets and one of her heels dragging up along his back, the muscle in her calf jumping, hips raising up against him, those loud exclamations. He gets her all worked up, until she's begging him and then he bites gently at her, drags her underwear to the side and it's only the first brush of his tongue, fingers barely against her before it's all those tells magnified.

He's totally torn, like does he stay where he is, get his mouth on her _properly _or does he slide back up, kiss her the way he wants to, let her get her hands on something other than his hair (she's totally a hair puller and he would really like to point it out, see if she blushes) but she tugs hard and he feels pre-tty impressive when he slides back up there. She takes one look at the expression on his face and starts laughing, a little flustered, her eyes warm.

"Um."

He grins at her in amusement. "Yeah?"

She huffs at him, nudges at his shoulder. "I should probably be embarrassed right?"

"Nope. Not at all." Thinks next time they do this, he's going to get her _out_ of her underwear first, taste her properly. Probably more than once.

"Do you have a-"

He raises his eyebrows at her, feels this ridiculous wave of affection for her. "What, you didn't come prepared?"

She flushes red, this blush across her cheeks he can see even in the dark. "Okay, seriously, it's not like I planned-"

"Oh, I'm not complaining," he says, thinks he's grinning at her. "You want to come over here and get naked, you can do that any time you want."

She rolls her eyes, tosses her head just a little. "I'm _not_ naked," she says, all that attitude he's always liked so much, this smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She relaxes just a little, slides her arm up around his neck and kisses him, somewhere between that polite kiss from two nights ago and the kind of kiss she met him at his front door with. It's all lazy and soft and she moans right into his mouth when he gets his hands back on her.

It is like only a hundred and twenty-seven percent totally cliché for him to reach over to the bedside drawer and she snickers when he does, looks up at him like he's just _so_ predictable and he has to do something to get that thought out of her head so he pinches lightly at her and she jumps.

"Ass," she mutters, except she's smirking at him and she looks totally pleased. "Want me to whip out my skills and put that on with my mouth?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Is that actually something you can do?"

She shrugs off-handedly but her eyes are all wide and bright. "Bananas, health class. Let me show you."

And she does and it's hilarious but also, possibly she's ridiculously sexy at the same time and it's stupid how much he wants her and just _likes_ her too.

He's careful with her, slow and it's like, very gratifying to see her eyes roll back, this excited little smile on her face and he kisses her neck, tastes salt and she's got her lip caught in her teeth and the whole thing is combining to make it very difficult to stay slow, is the point he's trying to make here. He forces himself to ignore what his body wants and her body altogether because if he doesn't, it'll just be over and not only will it be a shame, it'll also be a serious disappointment for her and he'd really like to avoid disappointing her ever.

He starts to move, watching her face for what she likes, what she wants more of, her legs pulled right up, knees on either side of his ribcage. She slides one of those slender arms down between them, the backs of her fingers against him (which like – hot. It's hot. He wants to flip them, watch her touch herself on top of him so he needs to stop thinking about that immediately). His weight's on his elbows on either side of her head and he must hit something good for her because her eyes fly open and she gasps. He does it again and again until she's swearing and moaning and then she comes apart violently, mid yell, her pulse jumping wildly in her throat (if he wants to get truthful, the sight of her, flushed, little bite marks all over her breasts and collar bones, back arched, how slippery and soaking wet she is – it nearly ends him, too).

Except now that he's seen it once, there's just no _way_ one time is ever going to cut it (not that it's easy, how she's all heat around him, moving right with him like they're keeping the same beat in their heads, those moans and that trickle of sweat between her breasts and like, okay, he has to think about several non-sexy things, clowns and peas and ugly Christmas sweaters). He gets her there again, only this time, one of her hands is wrapped tight around the top of his arm and the other around him and he feels a little bit of a victory when she freezes against him and this time, she rakes her nails hard across his back, lets out a cry of pleasure that he feels radiate through his entire body.

Yep.

He's done here.

When he comes back into awareness, she's got one hand running through his hair (which – nice, actually, something he could possibly get used to), hips still cradling him, those long legs tangled around his waist. He's very vaguely aware that he may have bitten down just a little too hard at her shoulder right at the end there, how her hips faltered for a second and then he thinks that he also definitely heard her say something that didn't sound like "ouch, don't do that," so he figures maybe it's okay.

Still though. When he raises his head, he figures he's got a pretty sheepish expression on his face.

She looks pleased, like maybe beyond pleased, the look she gets when Ed brings in those mini-cupcakes from home, the ones that Sophie fills the centres of with chocolate and toffee. "So," she drawls.

He clears his throat and then can't find one thing to say.

"Not to completely inflate your ego," she says, eyes dancing and a nice flush still on her skin, "but is there anything you're not good at?"

He laughs, leans down and kisses her very gently, brushes his nose against hers before he kisses her again. She kisses him back right away, no hesitation, gets her arms around his neck and they make out for a little while, until he's starting to feel a chill on his back.

He brushes a last kiss across her mouth, pushes himself up. "I uh-give me a sec."

She makes a face but she lets him go, pushes herself up onto her elbow and watches him walk into the bathroom. He rolls his eyes at her before he closes the door, stares at the closed door for a moment before he cleans himself up and thinks, slightly hysterically that if this is a dream, he's good with staying asleep. Half expects her to be gone when he gets back, total dream-reality, is preparing for it but she just walks right past him, makes the same face that he made and then closes the bathroom door.

He's sitting on the edge of the bed in his underwear, clean t-shirt on backwards, when she comes out.

She pauses, leans against the doorframe, light spilling out behind her, smiles like she's not even conscious of how naked she is, and she's-she is marked up, is all, faint round marks at her hips and all the way down her thighs (his fingers, he thinks dimly), little bites on her neck, collarbones all red from his stubble. "Is this something we should talk about?" Her voice is still hoarse (all that screaming in his ear, probably – not a thing he's ever going to complain about, totally the opposite, actually).

"You tell me." Actually, he'd really like for her to not go anywhere. Like. Ever.

She laughs, this soft sound that makes him smile too, her eyes all pretty. "Think we covered all bases, actually."

His eyebrows shoot up and he gets to his feet as she moves closer, slides his hands onto her jaw and kisses her. She's clinging to his forearms, eyes closed, when he pulls back and he really just wants to make sure- "Uh. Wait. So. You staying?"

Her eyes blink open and she rolls them at him. "I know you're not going to make me go all the way back home only to pass back this exact way in three hours for work."

He's grinning at her really foolishly, leans over and kisses her cheek.

"But you should probably ask me. You know. Um. Properly."

And he hears all the things she's asking for and he thinks it's pretty much exactly what he'd hoped for when he asked her out in the first place. "Oh definitely. You uh. You want to stay?"

She shrugs up at him like this is something she can breezily decide. "I suppose so." But he sees how she meets his eyes and how she looks all pleased. "Yes."

And they're both snickering and he says, "Great, well, do you mind if I get back into bed then? It's just-someone woke me up a couple hours ago."

"So rude. Who does that?"

"Some people." He tugs her close to him. "Alarm's set already. And if you don't like waking up to Rush, we should probably rethink this whole thing right now."

She snorts, looks at her underwear on the floor and then slides right between the sheets still naked. "We're going to have to stop at my place before work. By the way. And I think you should probably know that I'm going to need the biggest coffee ever. So we're going to have to stop off. And I don't think Starbucks is going to cut it so-"

"Were you always this bossy?"

"Ehh, it only comes out after someone's gotten me off a bunch of times." She's grinning at him.

"Oh right, okay then. Good to know." Possibly, he's grinning too.

"Hey, Spike?"

"Mm?" God, he's tired. It's probably never felt this good to lie in his bed, head on his pillow. He doesn't know if that's because he's so tired or because she's lying here next to him and her scent's all over the sheets. He'd really like her to be a little closer, tries to pull her to him by circling his hand around her wrist.

"You're just like." She clears her throat. "I um."

He wrenches his eyes open, looks at her and snorts. "Come here." Maneuvers them until she's pressed right against his side, head on his shoulder and her hand in his. "You know I didn't just wake up one day and think, 'huh, so that's Winnie, think I'll ask her out because I don't have anything better to do', right?"

"Um."

"I liked you for a long time," he says through a yawn, thinks the honesty really needs to stop pouring out of his mouth. He can feel her smiling against his chest.

"Um. Oh. Interesting."

"Isn't it?"

There a pause and he's almost asleep when she says, "I uh. Yeah. Okay. You know. Like. Me too."

"Glad we got that sorted," he mumbles. "Now is there anything else you need to discuss? Because I'm going to warn you now, I'm kinda hoping the answer is no. Think I'm too tired to give you anything meaningful."

She tilts her head up, presses a kiss against his jaw. "Mm, no. I'm good now."

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AN: So that was my first attempt at male-pov-outtake...I don't even know. Possibly, I should say I'm sorry but also, I'm not.

And, title-ironically, it's David Bowie's birthday. I took that as a sign.

(And I owe a thank you to Noble Caliber - without whom, this set of outtakes wouldn't exist. Thanks for making me think.)


	2. Leave It All On The Floor

AN: Um. I don't know. I have no excuse for the content, the title or the abject silliness and should possibly be locked up. I blame Tirsh - this is _all_ her fault. (You know. Mostly.)

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**Leave It All On The Floor**

"-are you even listening to me?" Spike turns away from the mirror where he's trying to adjust his collar, a look of disbelief on his face.

She stares back at him, eyes all wide.

He tugs on the broad end of his tie, tries to make it look a little smoother. "Winnie?" He rolls his eyes. "Okay really, you always do that when I'm telling you about-"

"Are you going to be pissed if we're late?" Her tone's all demanding, like she's about to tell him that she wants very particular street meat from a very particular vendor at a very particular time.

He shoots her a confused look, hands now hovering at the knot of his tie. "What? Why are we going to be late? Aren't you read-"

She hops up, muscles him back against the wall and kisses him hard on the mouth, unzips her own dress at the same time and kicks it behind her.

"What are you-" She cuts him off with a kiss, gets his belt undone and he knows it's unforgiveably stupid but he says, "Your dress is going to get wrinkled."

She pulls away, laughs into his shoulder, one of her hands sliding into his waistband. He knocks his head back against the wall, stares at her with his mouth feeling dry (it's just – Winnie in black lace, hair carelessly over one shoulder and this feeling like she could ask him to do anything at all and all he'd want to do is say yes). "Maybe I'll get lucky and it won't wrinkle at all."

He huffs at her, tries to think about why they have to go anywhere and then remembers that if they're late, Ed might kill him. "I was just-"

She bites down hard on his neck.

"_Fuck_, okay, but-" He shuts up abruptly. Because she's just dropped her bra right at his feet and the only thoughts in his brain right now all revolve around her.

She shoots him a wicked grin and seriously, he has no idea what in the hell's gotten into her, fifteen minutes ago she was complaining that he was taking too long to get ready and if she'd known he was going to be such a girl about the process, she wouldn't have come over so early, would have spent a few extra minutes on her hair and it's not that he didn't appreciate the effort she'd made (she had to push her way into his house because he was too busy standing at his front door in his towel, admiring her) but now it's like that entire sentiment is right out the window. She gets his pants down, gets her mouth on him in the same second and if he was losing his thoughts before, he's definitely lost them now, her mouth all warm and wet and her hands soft against him.

(Also. She always looks like she's enjoying this a ridiculous amount and something about that thought always does him in like, really quick.)

"Win-" he tries but his voice totally caves in so he lets her have her way for a few more minutes and then leans down and hauls her to her feet, kisses her, gets his hands on her jaw, tries to slow them down a little.

She kisses him back, just for a second and then she pulls away again, pulls off his tie (and he has no idea what that dangerous look is all about, this wild gleam in her eye and her teeth sunk into her bottom lip), wraps it around her hand before she unbuttons his shirt.

"Spi-ike," she singsongs softly.

And they've been together for you know, a couple months now and he's known her for years and he knows that that tone of voice usually means he's in trouble but he's going to enjoy being in trouble (before they were dating, it had meant that he'd swiped the last of the coffee out of the kitchen at work and she was going to arm wrestle him for the mug. Now it uh - means something else). He clears his throat. "I-yeah?"

"I have a _really_ good idea."

He knows she sees his wince before he can hide it. "You do?"

She laughs, pokes at his chest. "A really really good idea. You're going to love it."

"Um-"

She pushes him lightly and he hadn't even realized they were moving but the backs of his knees hit the bed and he ends up falling onto it. She crawls into his lap and they spend the next few minutes kissing lazily, her hands pressing down on his forearms. Which, actually, is really annoying because he'd like to touch her but he can feel how much of her weight she's pressing onto him, enough (so, all of it, negligible as it is) that if he moves too quick, she's going to fall.

"Winnie, hang-"

She rolls her eyes playfully, shakes her head at him. "Forget for a second that you're SRU."

What in the hell does that even mean? "Okay but-"

"Nope, no buts." She's really just too pretty, that teasing look on her face and her hair falling all over the place.

He sits up, traps her arms behind her. "Hang on a-"

"That's not forgetting that you're SRU," she says with a half-whine. "Come on. Trust me."

And the thing is, he does. Trust her. But he'd also like to know just what the hell she's planning on doing. "Can you just tell me what-"

She leans close, mouth against his cheek and her breath tickling his air, her breasts against his chest. "I'm going to tie you up. For fun."

"Tie me-"

She sighs, rolls her eyes and he almost starts laughing at the expression on her face. "Up. Now."

He laughs the whole time she uses his own tie to attach him to the corner of his headboard, the whole time she disappears into his closet to get another one of his ties for his other hand, the whole time she sits on his chest and surveys her work with this pleased expression on her face. In fact, he's so busy laughing that he forgets to ask what the actual purpose of the exercise is.

He raises an eyebrow at her . "Happy now?"

She grins at him, cheeks all pink and he inhales sharply when she presses her body all against his. "Very."

"Ok so now can you untie me so that we can-"

"Untie you?" she interrupts and that little gleam in her eye is back.

He clears his throat. Okay. So. Possibly, he should have been able to see that this would be the outcome. He'll debate his own intelligence later. (In his defence, he's a little _distracted_ here right now.) He tests at her knots, flexes his wrists and her knots may look like crap but they are tight. As in. He might not actually be able to get out of them.

"You okay?" She looks a little concerned now and he's not exactly _panicking_ or anything but he's never really liked feeling helpless.

"Winnie," he says carefully, "you want to tell me how you see this going?"

She stares at him incredulously and then bursts out laughing. "Are you trying to _negotiate_ with me?"

Of course he isn't. That would be silly. Plus she's his girlfriend, not a hostile subject waving a gun.

"You know, I may not be able to negotiate myself," she says still looks amused, "but I do listen to it day-in, day-out and I know all the little tricks you negotiators use."

He tugs on his wrists again, feels the knots tighten a little.

"Just relax," she says, voice soft. "I'm not going to do anything that you're not going to like."

And then she kisses her way down his chest and gets her mouth on him again and he almost forgets about his predicament. He tries not to raise his hips and choke her but she's pulling out all the big guns here, little tricks she saves up for rainy Tuesdays and like, casual Friday mornings, has him a third of the way down her throat, keeps swallowing around him and okay. Okay. This is a thing he can relax into, not a big deal if he can't touch her hair.

He's close enough that when she pulls off of him, his heart stutters a little bit and she doesn't touch him until he opens his eyes and looks at her.

"Tease," he says hoarsely.

She giggles, buries her face in his neck. He can feel her biting down lightly, one hand under her cheek and the other on his chest.

He turns, presses a kiss to whatever skin is right next to his mouth and she moves, straddles his hips, grins down at him.

"If this were any other day," she says musingly, "I'd let you feel how turned on you just got me."

He clears his throat, wonders if she has any idea whatsoever what it does to him when she just goes ahead and says stuff like that. "Winnie."

"Yeah?"

He huffs, no idea what to tell her because every single thing he's thinking about comes off sounding fairly rude and a little bit too much like he's telling her what to do and yes, they've been together for a couple of months but he still doesn't think it's an appropriate length of time to tell her half of the things that go on in his head sometimes. Like. It may feel like longer but he'd kind of like it to _be_ longer and not have her tell him that he's-

She slides down onto him and he freezes, his breathing too. She lets out a satisfied little noise when she's comfortable, hands braced on his ribcage and she's just-she's beautiful, is really what the problem is, too beautiful for her own good, like it's stupid but sometimes, he looks at her and he just can't stop smiling.

She flicks her hair over her shoulder and grins at him. "I kind of miss having your hands on me," she says as she starts moving.

Is she trying to kill him? He knocks the back of his knuckles painfully against the headboard, barely even notices it.

He's so concerned with not just giving in and having this end in a second and a half that he's almost confused when she freezes on top of him, chin tipped up and her breathing rough. He can see her pulse jumping in her chest and her neck, her hands in all the places he'd like _his_ hands to be.

She sits up, lets out a string of curses as she rocks her hips against him and he knows his jaw drops a little when he looks at her, at the fact that she's right here with him.

"Winnie," he chokes out, is actually surprised he can still speak, how she's running her fingers up and down her own body and actually, if she keeps doing that, her rhythm is going to make him lose it.

Except, then she slows right down and says, "Told you you were going to like it." She's all breathless, skin all flushed and no matter how he moves or twists, he can't get her mouth close enough to his to kiss her. She raises an eyebrow. "Right?"

"Right," he parrots, can't actually remember if there was a question in there that she was asking him.

She leans closer and he kisses her, thinks she's just a stupidly good kisser, tugs hard on the ties and sighs when she lets out this soft laugh, starts moving again and with her so close to him, pressed up right against him and all soft and warm and her hair smelling nice (not to mention the running commentary she's moaning into his ear – he had no idea Winnie Camden even _knew_ half those words) and when she gasps, whimpers his name, sinks her teeth into his shoulder-

Well pretty much, he's right off the bed and he's also done here, can't do anything else but try and slow his breathing, can't gather her up the way he wants to, can't get his hands on her jaw and neck and kiss her until she's still.

He tugs ineffectively at the two corners of the headboard and Winnie raises her head, gives him this satisfied little grin.

"So? What did I tell you?" She leans over to untie him and he may lick at her, just a little, nip at her with his teeth because her breasts are right in his face and if he can't touch her with his hands, he'll have to settle for getting his mouth on her. She lets out a yelp, pulls back and glares at him. "You know, I could just leave you here. Call Sam and Jules, ask them to come by and rescue you."

He laughs. "Go ahead. Except then you'd better remember that I won't be going down on you like I'm supposed to."

She narrows her eyes at him. "You lost that game fair and square." She usually has a terrible poker face but he'd been distracted by what she'd been wearing (or not wearing but who's disputing details here?).

He shrugs as best he can with his arms still bound, still grinning up at her. "If you won't play fair, _I_ won't play fair."

She stares at him open mouthed for a moment and then huffs as she slides up his chest, sits up tall while she undoes the knots. He turns his face, presses a kiss to her knee.

"How late are we, exactly?" he asks, sliding his one free hand up and down her thigh.

She rolls her eyes at him. "Late enough. And I'm going to have to re-do my makeup." She makes it sound like the saddest thing in the world.

He snorts. "You look great, you don't need to re-do anything."

She smiles at him, this embarrassed little smile she gives him whenever he pays her a compliment. "Well. I need to shower before we go. God, you're always so _messy_."

"_I'm_ messy?" he echoes incredulously. "You just got it all over me!"

"Minor technicality," she mutters, undoes the last piece of the knot with a flourish. "And done!"

He flips her off him, pins her down and kisses the tip of her nose. "Nice."

"Told you you'd like it."

He laughs, shakes his head at her. "You could have just told me what you were thinking."

"Where's the fun in that? Everyone needs a little surprise now and then. Keeps them on their toes."

"I disagree."

She grins up at him. "You always say that." Tilts her neck up so she can kiss him. "I think you should leave your hair like that, by the way. I like it." Kisses him again. "Now get off of me. We have a party to get to."

He snickers and complies, slides out of the bed, tosses her over his shoulder and carries her into the bathroom.

"Is this really necessary?" she huffs. "Also, your shoulder is digging into my stomach."

He rolls his eyes, deposits her on her feet before he flips the water on. "In and out, Win," he says warningly. "No funny business." Rubs a hand through his hair, tries to tame it a little.

She stares at him and then bursts out laughing. "No funny business? God, sometimes you remind me of my grandma."

He rolls his eyes at her again. "Hilarious," he says dryly. "Are you getting in here or what?"

She's going through his cupboards and drawers and he leans against the glass door and watches her in amusement. "Ah ha!" She holds up a hair elastic and grins at him. "Don't get my hair wet, it'll frizz."

He sighs impatiently and then swings open the door. "After you."

It takes them longer than is strictly necessary to get showered and dried and back into their clothes. Also, she uses his deodorant because obviously hers is downstairs in her purse (and he still thinks it's stupid that she hauls everything around in that camouflage-print bag but. Not the time) and then complains that he doesn't have a curling iron.

"I just want to curl this one piece," she says with a doleful sigh.

He laughs from where he's perched on the corner of the bed watching her, the knot of his tie as good as it's getting. "I'm sorry I've failed you," he deadpans. "Should we go?"

"All right, all right. But if someone asks me why this one piece of hair is almost straight, I'm going to blame it on you." She turns away from the mirror and then runs her eyes down him, gets this little smirk on her face.

He shakes his head at her. "Don't do that," he says warningly. They're just-they're already so incredibly late.

"I'm not doing anything." She clears her throat, this grin on her face as she raises her eyebrows at his hair. "You look like you just got laid, by the way."

He just shoots her a look and she slides her fingers against his as they walk down the stairs.

She slips her shoes on, leaves the straps undone until they're in the car and then he nearly drives off the road when she rests her foot on the dash, does each shoe up properly, legs long and bare right next to him. He glances at her, shakes his head.

"What?"

"You're just like." He laughs, shakes his head at her. "You're really pretty."

She snorts, rolls her eyes at him but he sees the flush on her cheeks as she changes the radio station.

The party's already going by the time they get to the Lanes' house, front door unlocked and people in every room. They look at each other, both snickering before they walk inside.

"There you are!" Of course, Sam would be standing right there in the front hallway, drink in hand. "You guys are _late_."

Leah's standing next to him, turns around with this eyebrow waggle that makes Spike clear his throat awkwardly. "What kept you?" She sounds like she's suppressing a giggle.

"We had a couple of things to get to first," Winnie says breezily, grins at them both. "Besides, we're not _that_ late."

"Dunno. You guys are pre-tty late," Sam says with a snort, raises his glass at them.

"Where's Jules?" Spike asks, desperate to be talking about anything other than how late they are.

"Bathroom. Ed and Sophie are around here somewhere." He gestures vaguely to the crowd of people behind him.

Winnie glances at Spike grinning. "Let's get a drink."

"Uh yeah okay," he mutters, immediately looking away from Sam's little smirk, follows her through the house.

She turns around outside the kitchen and grins up at him. "They're hammered."

He finds himself smiling back at her, leans down and kisses her quickly. "I have to ask you something."

"Yeah?"

"Is that piece of hair straight?" he asks innocently, motions to one of her long waves.

She squawks, slaps his chest ineffectively and he's holding onto the doorframe laughing when Ed and Sophie come out of the kitchen.

"What's so hilarious?" Sophie asks. "Where have you two been, by the way?" She arches her eyebrow and like, Spike's always thought she was funny but that was when this kind of behaviour wasn't being directed at him.

Ed's mid-chew and Spike's relieved, knows what Ed's like, knows his TL can read him just as well as anyone else on the team.

"Happy anniversary!" Winnie says, leans forward and hugs Sophie before cuffing Ed lightly on the shoulder.

"Aw, thanks! Glad you guys could come. Eddy, why don't you get them something to drink?"

Ed swallows, looks like he badly wants to say something but at Sophie's look he just sighs regretfully and disappears into the kitchen.

Sophie grins between the two of them. "Not like you to be so late, Spike."

"My fault," Winnie says cheerfully. "Curling iron issues."

Spike is just standing there wondering if everyone here will be able to tell that he was late because his girlfriend decided that she wanted to tie him up _with his own ties_ which should probably be something he should put out of his head around other people. And also, now that he's thinking about it, she's apparently good with knots. Makes a mental note to ask her about that later.

He pulls himself back into the conversation with difficulty, something about how easy it is for guys to get dressed up which may have been true before tonight but he doesn't know if he's going to be able to look at a tie ever again without thinking about-

"That's a nice tie, Spike."

Sophie just raises her eyebrows when Spike and Winnie look at each other with their eyebrows raised before they start laughing.


	3. You Can't Help Yourself From Falling

**You Can't Help Yourself From Falling**

Winnie adjusts her little outfit in front of her mirror, snickers at the thought of what Spike's going to say (and she knows they joked about the stripper get up but she couldn't quite bring herself to buy those ridiculous plastic shoes and she kind of thinks this is better anyhow because who doesn't like pretty pink and black lace? Okay, so that part's purely for her but she's reasonably sure he's going to like it anyhow) and then opens her front door and grins at him as charmingly as she can.

He stares at her, jaw dropping a little and then pushes her backwards into her apartment, hands on her hips, and closes the door quickly. "Do you usually answer the door wearing...that? What if I was someone else?"

She looks down and snorts. "Remember the time you called me and said you were on your way up?" She raises an eyebrow at the way he's staring at her. "See something you like?" She was going to go for really casual, a little, 'oh, I just woke up and threw this on' but you know. There's a garter belt and stockings involved and he's not an idiot.

He stares at her for a second more before he snickers. "I can't believe that just came out of your mouth but yeah, since you asked. I do."

She grins at him. "Maybe you should take a closer look."

He's still giving her this incredulous look but he's also kind of grinning at her so she's positive he doesn't hate it (and after the cheerleader get-up, she probably could have predicted that he wouldn't). "So this what you do on your days off? Dress up in sexy underwear and sit inside? If I'd known that before..."

"You'd have what?" she asks, raising an eyebrow interestedly. Kind of wishes he'd stop looking and start touching.

He laughs. "No idea. That's nice though." Brushes his fingers over the lace at her hip.

She rolls her eyes at him. "Thanks. You going to touch me or what?"

"You're so impatient. I was just looking."

"Okay. Well. Can you look a little more with your hands?" She knows that dressing up kind of means 'look at me' but the thing is, you know, Spike right after work, all clean and smelling good and like, what else is she supposed to be thinking about but instant gratification? Really, he should be glad. She lets out a sigh as he finally kisses her, fingers on her bare skin and she gasps a little, head tipped back, when he bites down lightly on her neck. Wonders what it is about him that's turned her into such a sex-obsessed freak (it's just – there's too many options for it to be just one thing).

"Mm, take it back," he mutters against her skin, breath against her ear making her shiver. "Nothing compared to you."

She snorts (seriously, sometimes he comes up with the most appalling lines but he says them so earnestly that-well, possibly a thing that works for her. Which should be ridiculous but isn't). "You don't have to butter me up, I'm on board." Obviously. Because she put this on in the first place. She inhales sharply. "Jesus. Do that again."

"Yeah?" His voice is all low.

"_Fuck_. Okay. Well. Unless we're going to do this right here, should we-"

"Right here's good."

Her eyes snap open and she tries not to laugh. "You know, that only works in the movies." And she's not even really sure it works then either.

"Says who?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Come on. You're going to hold all my weight and-"

"Should I be insulted?" he teases. "I can lift you just fine."

Okay well, that wasn't _really_ the point she was making, more that she'd have to rely on him to hold her and she'd have no leverage and basically, she'd have to just _let _him- "I'm just saying-"

"Stop saying," he advises, grin on his face. "Right here."

She giggles as she gets him undressed (skims her fingers down his chest, and he smells all nice, and he's warm and it's absolutely and entirely ridiculous but she feels this little thrill when she pulls off his belt – possibly, she's just lost her mind now and there's no recovering it), tugs at the button on his jeans, as she touches his skin, long deep kisses that have her arching against him, rolls her eyes at him when he suggests she leave on what she's wearing (and obviously, she does, because apparently he asks and she just _wants_ to, rolls her eyes at herself the whole time because really, come on, this is so absurd and what's probably more absurd is that she'd intended to leave it on in the first place so whatever) and laughs until he gets them lined up. Then she, um – stops laughing.

There's muffled curses and expletives and she realizes a few minutes in that the edge of the doorframe is digging into her back but also, she doesn't want to take the time to re-adjust them (yeah, she just doesn't even know, who needs to be comfortable while they're having crazy-good sex? Certainly not her).

She's clinging to him, has absolutely no leverage to speak of (and she totally called that, if anyone cares) and possibly, this is a thing that's working for her which is entirely ridiculous because she is a _modern_ woman here, is well aware that she's in charge of her own satisfaction except she can kind of forget about that a little because he seems to be trying to be in charge of it too-

Too loud. She's being too loud. This isn't like at his place where there's no one above or below and she's reasonably sure that there's someone walking past her apartment door right now. "I think someone's outside," she mutters.

Spike pauses and she glares at him like what in the hell even, that's not an invitation to stop _moving_, Jesus Christ on a fucking crutch, get with the program, and he lets out a vague, "Oh."

She rolls her eyes and she's about to say, 'okay, well can we get back to what we were just doing?', when he does something with the angle that has her freezing against him, breathing way too fast and seriously, she remembers the days with other boyfriends when she'd have to take care of the whole thing herself and it's just not like that with him (seriously. Seriously, not a thing she has a problem with).

She's abstractedly aware that she's just slammed the back of her head into the wall but also, it's a scientific fact that it's only possible to feel pain in one part of your body at a time and his fingers are bruising right into her hips and she has almost certainly lost what little brain power she had before him because she isn't complaining. Like. At all.

(Also, all the muscle in his arms, possibly a thing she finds really ridiculously attractive and like, any time he wants to drop down and do some push ups in front of her, he can just go on right ahead. Idly wonders if this is what guys think about porn. Soft-core, obviously. She's not entirely sure what she could liken hard-anyhow. Whatever. Not the point.)

"God, you're loud," he mutters against her neck, bites down hard and her hips jump (see, the first time they slept together, she thought that this thing he has with sinking his teeth into her skin was like, some kind of blip on the radar. Like maybe she'd teased him within an inch of his life on that first date – you know, with the leaning on the table and making sure that her dress was just low enough that he'd look but not too low because she didn't want to look like some kind of ridiculous skanky mcskankypants and why yes, it had also been tight but it hadn't been short because you know, her mother always said pick low or pick short but don't pick both and all she'd been trying to do was remind him that she didn't always wear a uniform and that's what he was getting himself into and then they'd had that very nice, chaste, polite kiss in her driveway – and he was just, you know, showing her what that had done. Only, he still does it and she is as ridiculously into it as she was the first time he did it and what exactly was her point here? She doesn't even know).

She's about to tell him to shut up and like, whatever, _he's_ loud but also, this angle is like a stupidly good angle and really he should just- "Keep going," she mutters through clenched teeth.

"And you didn't want to do it right here," he huffs breathlessly.

"Sor-ry," she moans, "but like. I didn't think-_holy fucking_-seriously? Seriously. Why are you slowing down?" It comes out super demanding and she snickers at herself a little.

He snorts and well, yeah, she kind of asked for it, how he's suddenly all rough and she can't even really breathe in properly, scratches probably a little too hard across his back and this is just. Like. Incoherent goodness, basically.

Also, by the end of it, she's got her face buried against his neck, is gasping every time he moves, has this sudden hysterical thought, like what are her neighbours going to think and then muffles her mouth against his skin.

They sort of collapse onto the ground after and he accidentally elbows her in the hip even as she twists and nearly knocks him out. She glares at him, is still breathless when she says, "See? I told you it wasn't practical."

He shoots her this look like possibly if she wants to see him walk on water right now, he can totally oblige her and what can she even say because he is just stupidly good at sex. "I didn't hear you complain either of those times."

"Shut up," she mutters. It's really all she has to work with. Moves a little bit and then winces. "Ow, I think I hurt my back."

"Yeah me too."

They look at each other and there's a pause before they start laughing. "Stupid idea," she says with a sigh.

"I like our stupid ideas."

"Yeah me too. Doesn't make them any less stupid."

He pulls her close to him, kisses her temple.

She smiles at him, moves a little closer. "I made dinner. Pasta completely not the way you're used to. I'm warning you now, don't comment on the twenty-five pounds of cheese I used."

He snorts. "Is that going to involve either one of us getting off this floor?"

She snickers, presses her lips to his shoulder. "Mm, unfortunately. Unless you brought your little robot home with you."

"My little robot?!"

She grins, how he's all affronted and a thousand different kinds of adorable and she just like, really likes him. "Just kidding."

He huffs. "You know, I'd never let anyone else get away with that."

That's got to be a good thing, right? Then again, maybe sleeping with him just gives her some special privileges or something like that. She _does_ have a set of his keys though. "Sweet of you. How was work?"

"Good." He clears his throat, shrugs at her. "Miss you on your day off."

Or maybe it's not just the sleeping with him that does it. (She really kind of hopes it's that option.) "Not half as much as I miss you," she says, grins at him. Pushes herself up and off the floor, wincing. "God, talk about a mess."

He laughs, lets her reach down and pull him to his feet. "I kinda like you messy."

"That's disgusting," she says, making a face. "You know, I heard some people say it's really good for your hair. But apparently that's a lie. So I've heard." She gets a really loose tongue after someone screws her into the doorframe, apparently. Honestly, Winnie, feel free to shut up any time now.

He bursts out laughing. "You let me know whenever you want to check the accuracy of that one."

"Ew." She turns on the shower and then calls out, "Are you joining me? Or are you going to enjoy the luxury of showering alone?" She is _all_ for having a little fun in the shower but _actually_ showering and they just get under each other's feet (actually, so okay, one time, he may have had shampoo in his eyes and it had taken some wrangling to get out of his way).

He snorts, leans his head around the door frame and then crosses his arms and leans back against the sink, watches her unsnap the clips and unroll her stockings before wriggling out of the rest of it. She catches the way he's looking at her and raises an eyebrow. "What?"

He tugs her to him by her wrist, kisses her very gently on the mouth and they spend five minutes making out lazily while the water heats up and Winnie is totally not sure which part of her evenings she likes better, is all she's saying. He talks to her the whole time she's shampooing her hair and then they switch and she sits on the counter in her towel, tugs the comb through the ends of her hair and then leaves him to finish up so she can get dressed.

She's sitting on the couch watching Animal Planet when he comes out and he has a fully fledged conversation without any contribution from her for a solid five and a half minutes while he gets back into his clothes (look, you want to talk sexy arms, Spike has got that _covered_, is all she's saying here. And furthermore, it's almost criminal that he's hiding all of that under SRU-issued tac gear. Anyhow.) and he glances at her, catches her staring at him shamelessly and he's rolling his eyes when she kneels on the couch and he kisses her over the back of it, pulls her onto his side with one arm.

"You said something about dinner."

She snorts. "Typical, just like a guy, always thinking about food."

He kisses her cheek. "Not always."

Okay seriously, does he do that shit on purpose? Because her answer is a gigantic shiver and a longing look at her bedroom. And the couch. And possibly her dining table too. She ignores it because you know, everyone needs fuel, pulls off the lid of the pot with a flourish and then laughs when he pulls her closer to him, slides his hands up inside her shirt before he kisses her.

"Looks more like thirty pounds."

She shoots him a quizzical look, hunts around for two plates that don't match and hands him a spoon. "What?"

He rolls his eyes at her. "Cheese. You said-"

She snorts, elbows him lightly in the side. "Ugh, no comments from the peanut gallery. I already warned you."

He laughs, presses a kiss against her hair. "You did."

They eat dinner at opposite ends of the couch, legs tangled together and the tv on mute and he makes her laugh so hard she nearly drops her plate. And when they're done eating, she crawls into his arms and he presses a kiss to her hair.


	4. Moments That Settle

AN: This is what happens when you try and undo how badly blocked you are - probably, I should apologize.

Also, I suspect you will need to suspend your disbelief for what comes next (also, if you've been harrassing me over PM or DM, thank you - I really do appreciate it!). I tried to temper it down with the nod to Steinbeck - did I fail? Not fail? I don't even know.

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**Moments That Settle**

Even the best laid tac plans sometimes don't work out the way they'd hoped.

And this is one of those tac plans, an extra person standing just outside the field of the camera, no way they'd ever have caught it, not unless they'd been running surveillance themselves from the night before.

It's not a disaster though, this idiot who can barely shoot straight (Spike assumes that's the only reason he doesn't have a bullet lodged somewhere in his skull), lets off one that grazes his neck, one that lodges in his vest and three or four that get embedded somewhere in the wall behind him. Close range though.

Pain's worse than he remembers it being, thinks he caught it right inside the rib cage, seriously hopes it missed everything important or he's going to be looking at surgery in his future and he'd really rather not-

"Status? Team One?" Right. That's Boss. Everyone answers and he hears, "Spike? Status!"

Kind of hard to breathe right now, the fucking bullet caught him right in his exhale and he can't grab any air yet. Forces himself to relax and then sucks in air gratefully. "Yeah," he wheezes.

It's Ed he hears hollering for the kid to put the gun down, Ed who reaches down for him, Ed who looks absolutely terrified before a mask drops down over his whole face.

"Vest, Ed. Vest," Spike says because he knows that look, like it's Lew all over again.

"Good. That's good, Buddy. Can you stand?"

Ed hauls him to his feet and Spike has to suppress a groan. Okay. So. That hurts. He lets out a breath, lets his breathing even out. Winces.

"You're not supposed to let them hit you," Leah says with an eye roll but he catches her relieved look.

"Yeah, think I missed that day in kindergarten," he says. Makes a face. Hates sitting on the sidelines, knows he's going to be off-duty for at least a week, more if there's something broken or perforated. Talk about a hassle.

At the top of the stairs, Jules reaches for his MP5, grins at him in relief and bumps her shoulder lightly against his arm.

Boss meets him outside, walks him over to EMS and like, he looks all worried so Spike tells him a bad joke about bubble bath that has Boss snorting and rolling his eyes (not Spike's best material, not by a long shot but. Does the trick).

EMS takes a look, asks Spike a bunch of questions that he answers succinctly; no, there's no tenderness other than at the site, no, he's not feeling hot or dizzy, no, he's not nauseous and why, yes, thanks for asking, that does hurt. The paramedic tells him he's probably got a broken rib but Spike's had broken ribs before and while this hurts, now that the adrenaline's wearing off, he can at least appreciate that there's nothing broken and he's not even going to need a trip to the ER.

He leans back in the chair once they're all finally on their way back to HQ. Sam leans over, claps him on the shoulder. "You okay?"

"Totally fine."

Sam nods at him and lets it go and Spike's thinking that they're probably going to postpone the debrief till tomorrow and that he's going to owe them all at least a round and maybe two and he wonders if Winnie will feel like joining them.

He's purposely kept his thoughts away from her, knows how it is when he starts thinking about her on a call so he doesn't do that. He knows she heard, knows she would have heard his status update too but still. He hates being the reason she has to worry.

He pauses at the desk while the rest of Team One heads to the locker room.

"Hey Winnie."

She doesn't smile, just looks up at him with her face all pale and - she just looks like she had a bad scare and hasn't quite gotten over it yet. Her hands are all steady on the keyboard though. "Hey." Her voice is soft, whole mess of things he hears in there.

He takes a deep breath. "You know I'm okay, right?"

"Yeah. I know."

He hears relief, knows she must have been tempering it down so she could finish her shift, get through the rest of the things she needs to get through and he feels a bit faint when he looks at her face, the fact that ever agreed to this at all, that she's waiting around for him at the end of shift, that he gets to go home with her. He probably spends five minutes too long just staring at her and she smiles at him, looks a little less terrified.

"I'm gonna grab a shower," he says, keeps his voice calm because they can't have both of them going ahead and freaking out. And she just – she looks a little freaked out, is all he's saying.

"Okay. You uh. You need to go to the ER?"

He shrugs. "Nah. Got checked over. Nothing serious."

She rolls her eyes at him. "If you say so."

He grins at her, leans on the desk, shifts his weight and then remembers why exactly he wasn't doing that before. Covers it with a really bad line but she laughs and he thinks the slightly agonizing pain afterwards – well, it's worth it.

He also can't decide if the hot water feels good or not, glances in the mirror after he showers and wonders if Winnie'll find it weird if he just keeps his shirt on till his skin goes back to the right colour (figures she definitely will, even though there's a flare of vibrant purple starting on his right side and he'd rather she didn't see it at all).

Ed catches him at the door to the briefing room. "Debrief tomorrow afternoon."

Spike knows how this goes, knows he's going to have to see his own doctor tomorrow, get a note clearing him for active duty and that even then, he'll be stuck in the truck until Ed feels like he can jab him in the side and not have him flinch. "Copy."

"And drinks at The Goose now. You're buying, by the way."

Spike rolls his eyes (he knows how this goes too, guy who gets shot gets the first round and, depending on how bad he scared everyone else, the second and third too. So after Jules came back, she ended up getting them all five rounds and a few orders of wings. That was a fairly sloppy night, actually). "Yeah yeah."

Winnie's waiting outside with everyone else too, slides her hand into his pocket and grins up at him. He's a little relieved, obviously, she's feeling better about the whole thing but he also catches this look Ed sends her, like she's his kid sister or something (which – okay, so he needs to get himself a grip and stop thinking these ridiculous soppy thoughts).

He gets the first round, holds Winnie's hand under the table and doesn't want to let go of her so she has to pick up her glass with her left hand and he doesn't even care. She sits close to him, warmth all down his side and how nice she smells, even after a day at work and he relaxes a little (it's just, okay, so possibly, that bullet scared him a little bit too).

He half thinks Ed's going to make him get a second round too, but his TL just squeezes his shoulder and tells them all to get home safe.

They get in the front door and Winnie helps him off with his coat, even though he's still got both his arms and he can use them just fine, hangs it up for him as he kicks off his shoes and he's about to suggest they just sit down for a bit, watch tv or something, when she leans up and kisses him hard on the mouth.

Usually, kiss like that, he'd have her naked and up against the wall in a second and a half but it's different tonight, how she keeps moving just out of his reach and he's wondering what in the hell it's all about.

"Hang on," he pants against her mouth and she shakes her head, keeps kissing him and he finally has to grasp her by the arms, muscle her between him and the wall, even though his rib is asking him what in the hell he thinks he's doing. "Win. You okay?"

"Just want you," she says, shakes her head at him. "Come on. Please. Let me."

And like really, what in the hell can he say to that? She tugs him into the kitchen, unbuckles his jeans and she kisses him the whole time she's unbuttoning his shirt (and honestly, she is just so good at multitasking, he really doesn't tell her often enough, makes a mental note to rectify that), only then she pushes it off his shoulders and freezes.

He clears his throat, had actually totally forgotten about it (in his defence, he did have other things on his mind). "Uh-"

"That hurting? You want me to stop?" All concern and this little furrow between her eyebrows.

He snorts, gets his hands on her jaw. "S'okay. And no. I really don't."

She lets out a huff but she kisses him again and he figures it's got to be okay because then she tugs off the rest of her clothes and he gets her skin right against his. She's got great skin, all soft, no matter where he touches her and she always smells good. He inhales against her neck, bites at her gently and she moans, presses her hips against his and he has no idea why she dragged him into the kitchen of all places, what she's thinking, but she presses him gently into one of the kitchen chairs.

Her grin falters, just a little when her eyes fix on that bruise but he's really not even thinking about it now because, you know, priorities, Winnie adjusting herself so that she's straddling him. Jesus. She's beautiful all the time but just a little bit more, a little bit different, when it's just the two of them like this.

She kisses him and he touches her, slides one hand down until she whimpers his name, tips her hips against his fingers. Not like he really needs to do a whole lot here, not like she's not ready for him, but he's never been able to resist Winnie panting against his skin, begging him just a little.

She's got her arms looped around his neck, tells him, "I'm going to-"

Like he doesn't already know, all those little warnings he's getting, ignores her entirely and she gets a little louder and he's smiling against her neck when she lets out this satisfied little noise. She pulls away a little, still close to him and raises her eyebrow. "Oh shut up," she mutters but she's grinning.

"I didn't say anything." Eases his wet fingers out from between them.

"Yeah, you didn't have to," she says, rolls her eyes. "You really okay?"

"I'm really okay."

"Okay good. Cause I didn't really want to stop either."

He opens his mouth to tell her that duh, like he doesn't already know that, how wet she was before he even got his fingers on her but then she raises up just a little and then slides down and okay, seriously, she's just so warm and it's like-

"Winnie," he mutters, pulls her closer to him.

She's got her hands in his hair, hips barely moving and she lets out this breathless laugh that always makes him smile. "Love you."

He bites against her neck, feels her shiver. "Love you."

She slips her tongue into his mouth and he kisses her back deeply, pulls her closer and lets out a low groan right into her mouth when she changes that gentle moving forward and back of her hips into something a little more urgent, a little harder. He slides his palms down her sides, rests them on her hips, doesn't try and change her pace, likes to just watch her. She doesn't disappoint, gives him a wicked grin, slides her hand across and down her own body and the air between them is all crackly and hot and she collapses against him, loses her rhythm and he wraps her hair around his hand. Tugs so that he can see her face, kisses her hard on the mouth.

"Stop trying to get killed, okay?"

He smiles at her. "Copy that."

She wrinkles her nose. "Turn off that cop talk for one second, would you?"

He laughs, breath exhaling too quickly when she starts moving again. "Sorry. Habit." Knows she's trying to get him out of the headspace of being on a call (it just – it takes time, some nights. Like when you've had the shit scared out of you).

"I'll give you habit," she mutters, moves faster. "Don't you dare come, I'm not done yet."

"Working on it," he says, gritting his teeth.

She laughs, all breathless and pretty and he tries not to think about how she feels, how she's too warm, too slippery, too much. Gets one hand between them and he knows he's being too rough, knows it from the way she's suddenly louder, the way she starts talking, telling him not to stop and like, Winnie has a filthy mouth when she wants to, probably worse than any of the guys he's ever hung out with before and definitely worse than him (although – like, possibly he doesn't start laughing in the middle of telling her stuff anymore and he knows that's all to do with her) and he has to gets his lips on hers, get her to shut up for a second so he can try and think about something other than the fact that she's close and that despite all of that, he's probably closer than she is.

Her rhythm is all way too fast and she's got her arms around his neck, nestled close, skin on skin all the way down, and like any other time, she'd be a huge tease, hop off and turn around or something but he wants her close to him, wants to see her face and have her lips right next to his and he sucks hard against the side of her throat, bites at her neck, hears her whimper his name.

He's probably never been so relieved in his entire life as he is when she gets louder, bottom lip caught between her teeth, sounds pretty fucking obscene, actually, everything in her clenching and her face tipped back, clinging to his shoulders and she's so fucking pretty, skin all flushed and her mouth all swollen from kissing him. He pulls her closer, tangles his fingers in her hair and she never stops moving,

Everything between them is soaking and hot and he _can't_, wants it to last forever and also wants more, and it's so many versions of ridiculous that what gets him there is-

"Love you." Gasped breathlessly against his neck and he grips her waist, presses his fingers into her skin, groans her name, is trying to tell her that he loves her too, loves her more than he ever meant to love anyone but the words are lost somewhere in between his tongue and the roof of his mouth and it takes him a while to stop his body from tensing, to remember that he's bruised and that it hurts and that he also doesn't care.

Her hair is all stuck to her skin, all sweaty and his tongue darts out, licks a line along her neck, tastes salt and she hugs him tightly.

He tangles a hand in her hair, tugs a little so that she tips her face up and he can kiss her. "Love you, Winnie. A lot."

She kisses him back, and then clears her throat. "Did I hurt you?"

He lets out a disbelieving snort. "I'm not that fragile."

She sighs, rolls her eyes at him. "I know that. I meant. You know. Did I make it worse?"

"Definitely," he says, can't keep the grin off his face.

"Oh, for god's sake," she mutters, like she's trying to look annoyed and is failing miserably.

"I'm okay."

Her hands are warm on either side of his face. "I know." She sounds fucking relieved as all shit.

He leans his face towards hers, angles his head so he can kiss her again.


End file.
